


Coming Out of My Cage

by ElderBerryBeret



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Eddie & Richie first time, Eddie forgot he was gay, Eddie gets divorced, Implied past abusive behaviour, M/M, Myra is actually a good judge of character, Myra is not abusive, Some internalised homophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:33:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23418286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElderBerryBeret/pseuds/ElderBerryBeret
Summary: After Derry, Eddie realises that his life cannot follow the same path as before.  He needs to face up to his new reality and find the courage to be authentic with the people he cares about.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 6
Kudos: 95





	Coming Out of My Cage

It didn’t feel right to use his keys, so Eddie rang the bell and waited.

He could hear Myra making her way down the hall. Of course, after ten years of marriage, he recognised the familiar sound of her footsteps and could picture the way her hand would hold tightly on the handrail as she made her way downstairs. He was mildly hungover, not a familiar state for Eddie, who usually drank rarely and moderately. He had spent the previous evening with a bottle of gin and a carton of prune juice, alone in the hotel room he’d been staying in, and with his phone switched off and put away in the closet. It took a lot of discipline for drunk-Eddie not to text a certain broad shouldered comedian.

He tried to put himself in Myra’s shoes. He tried to imagine how she must be feeling after one, catastrophic, argument resulted in two weeks of hostile silence, and ended with her husband walking out and moving into a hotel near his office. Eddie had been consumed with confusion since Derry, so, for him, the events leading to their separation made sense. For Myra, it must have come out of nowhere. 

Eddie knew that he’d had been different on a surface level. He’d taken up running as soon as he’d been given the all clear from his doctors, and Eddie had always been careful, before, not to exacerbate his asthma, even though he knew it was anxiety, and not asthma, that caused his chest to tighten, preferring gentle exercise to intense cardio. He had stayed in touch with the Losers, which Myra found suspicious as Eddie had never had friends in all the years she’d known him. Then there were his nightmares. These was all things that pointed to how he’d been changing. He was sure this would have been confusing for Myra. He was also sure that he was different. Remembering his childhood had bought a different Eddie to the surface. 

He was literally not the same man he’d been six months ago.

Myra opened the door. Her face, which had always been expressive, ran through a complicated cycle of emotions; relief, happiness, confusion, before settling on anger. This was no more than Eddie deserved. 

“Why are you ringing the doorbell?” She said. “Have you lost your keys?”

“Can I come in?”

She turned her back on him and walked through to the kitchen. Eddie followed, shutting the door behind him. He could feel his chest tightening, and although he now recognised it as anxiety, not asthma, recognising it didn’t change how his breath whistled through his throat, or how it made him feel weak.

Myra busied herself setting the kettle on the stove to boil. She always made tea when dealing with a stressful situation. Eddie sat at the island. She made him wait, in frosty silence, until the tea was made, and then she set two mugs down and sat opposite him.

“If you’re here to apologise, there’s a lot I have to say to you, Eddie.”

“I’m not here to apologise.” Eddie said. “But I do I owe you an explanation.”

Eddie could see Myra’s confusion. He thought, unkindly, that she was expecting him to beg for forgiveness, which would be given eventually and graciously, once he’d given up more of himself to her. Eddie was conscious that it would be so easy to lie to Myra, to tell her what she wanted to hear. It had always been this way between them. She pushed and cajoled and sometimes cried for Eddie’s own good, and Eddie lied to keep the peace, he lied to make her happy and he lied to get his own way. He felt each lie from the previous months acutely, realising that if Myra was controlling, then he was equally manipulative. This fact exhausted him.

“I think you owe me an apology, at the very least.” Myra said. “I’ve been going out of my mind with worry. You disappear for weeks, refuse to speak to me, and turn up, hung over - don’t think I haven’t noticed -like a stranger on the doorstep.”

“I’m not here to fight with you.” Eddie said. “I want to talk, Myra. Just let me say what I need to say, please.”

Myra took a sip of her tea, and gestured for Eddie to continue. Eddie took a breath as deep as his constricted chest would allow, and started speaking. “The reunion back in Maine changed things for me Myra. Before, I was just coasting through life, letting you take the lead - I’m not blaming you for anything, it was my fault, too - but I wasn’t living authentically. I guess the trauma of the injury was a trigger to take stock of my life.” This wasn’t true, but Eddie forgave himself for the lie, as it was as close to the truth as he could manage, without spilling the beans about the clown and sounding like a crazy person. Eddie continued. “I’ve been talking to Dr Milford, he’s been helping me take stock, and I realised how unhappy I’ve been. It’s not your fault, Myra, but I’ve been living a lie for years.”

“What are you talking about, Eddie? You’re scaring me.”

Eddie took a breath. It was now or never. He would either force the words out of his mouth for the first time in his life, face up to the truth and give himself the chance of finding happiness in the future, or he would bottle it, and continue to live half a life.

“I’m gay, Myra.” He said. “And I’m sorry but I can’t know this and stay married to you.”

Myra blinked rapidly, put down her tea and, well, she just stared at Eddie, as if he’d suddenly grown two heads. 

Eddie sat, gripping his hands tightly together under the counter top. He would not break and fill the silence with excuses or explanations, even though numerous options were running through his head. Myra deserved the honest truth, not the kind of easy lies that might hurt less now, but which would hurt more in the long run. 

After the longest minute of Eddie’s life, Myra stood up, poured her tea down the sink and reached up to the top shelf of the cabinets and took out a bottle of vodka. She poured two generous measures, topped it up with the freshly squeezed orange juice from the fridge and set one in front of Eddie. 

In a move that was eerily reminiscent of his own actions the previous day, she took a long drink and said, “This isn’t the kind of conversation I want to be having completely sober.”

Eddie was stunned. It was four in the afternoon, and he had never seen Myra take a drink before dinner in the twelve years he’d known her. He took a sip, too, his stomach turning slightly with the residue of his hangover from the previous night. 

“Did I hear you properly Eddie? Did you just say you’re gay?”

Eddie knew this was his last chance to put the genie back in the bottle, his last chance to step back into his old life and carry on as before. He could say that she’d misheard him. He could say that he was joking. He could say that he had a neurological problem that caused him to make outlandish statements, or that he was rehearsing a play. Eddie took another drink, steadied himself and said, “yes, Myra, I think - no, I know - that I’m gay.”

Myra considered this for a minute. “But you’re nearly forty, Eddie. And we’ve been married for ten years. Why are you just telling me this now?”

Eddie felt, in that moment, like a massive asshole. He’d been avoiding Myra and this specific conversation for weeks. He played it over and over in his head, how she’d be hysterical, dismissive, manipulative. How he’d have to plead with her to understand his point of view. And here she was, rationally asking questions she totally deserved to know the answers to. Eddie had under-estimated her. It made everything so much easier, but somehow harder at the same time. 

“It’s complicated Myra, but I promise you I’ve not been lying to you all this time. Well, I mean, I have been lying, but I’ve also been lying to myself.”

“It happened in Derry, didn’t it?” She said. “Something happened back there that changed you, Eddie. I couldn’t put my finger on it all these months, even when you walked out on me.” Eddie winced, understanding for the first time how cruel he’d been. Myra continued, “That’s when you realized, isn’t it?”

“That’s where it started, but I didn’t admit it to myself until afterwards. I was in therapy, and I said something to Dr Milford, and it all just clicked in my head. I know that I’m too old for all this - that most normal people just know what they are when they’re teenagers, but Myra, you knew my mother. There wasn’t much that was normal about my adolescence.”

Myra nodded. She had met Sonia several times during her courtship with Eddie. Eddie knew that Myra, who was an astute judge of character, had seen his relationship with his mother as unhealthily co-dependent, and he suspected that Myra had not grieved for Sonia when she died, because it meant she could step in and look after Eddie, the way she thought he needed. To be fair, he had needed her at the time. 

“I thought it might have had something to do with your friend Richie, the comedian.” Myra said, and Eddie’s stomach dropped. “He was constantly at the hospital before I got there. The nurses said he refused to leave for the first four days. They thought he was your next of kin.”

Eddie hadn’t known that. Did it mean something? Eddie didn’t know. 

He had another choice, now. His first instinct was to deflect, to deny, to call Myra crazy and tell her it was all in her mind. “I was in love with him,” he said instead. “When we were kids.” 

She nodded, as if she’d expected nothing else. 

“And then I saw him again, and it took a while but it all came back to me.”

“Does he know?” Myra said. 

“God no! We hardly spent any time together before I ended up in the hospital. I don’t remember much. I didn’t put it all together until later. It doesn’t matter anyway, Richie’s straight.”

“Eddie, honey, you might not rate my opinion, as I’ve evidently been married to a gay man for the last ten years without realising, but that man isn’t straight. I’ve seen his shows. I’ve seen him in person. He’s not what he pretends to be.”

Eddie actually did rate Myra’s opinion, but that statement was just too much to process while sitting in front of his wife. 

Myra poured herself another drink. 

“I’m sorry for the way I acted, Eddie. When you left, I was so confused. I had no idea what I’d done wrong, and I just wanted to reach you. God, what must your colleagues think of me, calling constantly.”

“I’m sorry. I was a coward and I’ve been cruel to you. I should have talked to you sooner. I shouldn’t have run away. You deserved better.”

“I did.” Myra said. “But I have to say, some things suddenly make a lot more sense.” She laughed, and Eddie was reminded of the girl she’d been when they first met. “I thought you had an abnormally low sex drive!” She said, through a series of giggles. 

“Myra!” Eddie said, shocked. 

“It’s funny, Eddie.” Myra said. He guessed it was, in a slightly humiliating way. Eddie supposed he had to own it, he actually couldn’t remember the last time they’d had sex, and he’d never really enjoyed being intimate with Myra. 

They sat for a while. Eddie told her about the fight he’d had with Harris at the office, and she told him about the goings on at the dental practice she managed. Eventually, Eddie stood up to leave. 

“What happens now?” He said.

“That’s the question Eddie.” She replied. “But, you’re right. I don’t think we can stay married, can we?”

***

The divorce was finalised six weeks later. 

***

Eddie bought himself a new apartment. Myra had kept the house. It was the first time Eddie had lived alone. 

He still ran every morning before work, his feet pounding the pavement and his chest burning, taking in the fall colours in the park. He still worked twelve hours in the office every day, but his work was below par. He’d lost his edge, was snappy and passive-aggressive in meetings, and the secretaries were starting to avoid him, when they’d flocked around him before. In the evenings, Eddie stayed home. He called Myra twice a week, and their conversations were surprisingly easy. She still fussed over him, but he no longer felt crushed by her concern.

Eddie knew the divorce was the right thing to do. But it was lonely.

Bill suggested Tinder, or god forbid, Grindr, but Eddie had been out of the dating scene so long that the thought of creating a profile seemed overwhelming, and he didn’t know where to start with the gay scene. He felt too old and simultaneously too naive. Mike suggested taking a class, or volunteering, but Eddie said he didn’t have the time. Dr Milford gave him therapy homework, trying to help him past his aversion to developing a stronger social network. It wasn’t helping.

Eddie picked up his phone to call Richie several times, but never pressed the call button. He’d had a lot of time in the hospital, later recovering at home, and now he spent so many hours alone, to think about his childhood and adolescence. He had remembered how mother disapproved of his friends. Sonia Kaspbrak had disliked all of them. She had plenty to say about Mike (‘sparrows don’t roost with blackbirds, Eddie’), about “that Jewish boy” and about the kind of teenage girl who would run with a group of boys. She really hated Richie, though. She called him dirty, lewd and foul-mouthed, a bad influence who would lead Eddie down a dark path. It was a major act of ongoing rebellion throughout his teenage years for Eddie to remain friends with Richie. 

Eddie remembered falling in head over heels in love with Richie, at some time during the summer when he was fifteen and Richie was sixteen, and he remembered holding the information close inside him, not daring to speak the words out loud or give any hint of them, afraid of provoking revulsion, or worse, pity from Richie. Everyone knew that Richie liked girls. And everyone, especially Eddie, knew what happened to gay boys in a town like Derry. Beatings and ridicule were the least of it. Eddie was afraid that his friends would shun him, if they knew.

Then his mother had dragged him to New Jersey in a u-haul truck, and he’d forgotten Richie had ever existed, and at the same time, he’d forgotten what it was like to feel physical attraction to another person. He’d forgotten he was gay.

Life carried on. Sometimes Eddie would be at his desk, clocking his billable hours, when a new memory of his childhood would surface. They were often sweet - side by side with Richie, reading comics in the clubhouse hammock, playing blackjack for pennies with Bev (who usually won), holding tightly onto Bill as Silver wobbled - but sometimes they were jarring, horrific. They left Eddie with trembling hands and an overwhelming need to reach out to one of the Losers, to check that he wasn’t actually going insane. Other than these moments of terrible recall, Eddie was doing surprisingly well.

*** 

Eddie jolted himself awake in the darkness of his apartment. Another nightmare. This time he had been caught by the leper. As he sat up in his bed, he had a lingering impression of hands tightening around his neck, and disease spreading up his arms as he tried to prise the leper’s hands off of him. His phone said it was three in the morning. Eddie groaned and pulled himself out of bed. He shuffled down the hall and sat in the kitchen. There was no point trying to go back to sleep, he was too shaken. It had been nine months since Derry. The nightmares were less frequent now, and were usually more manageable. Myra had been very worried about him, when the nightmares were every night. There was no-one for Eddie to disturb now.

Eddie unlocked his iPad, and googled Richie, again. He felt slightly uncomfortable in his late-night stalking, but not uncomfortable enough to stop. It was strangely comforting, the closest he could get to Richie without any risk of exposure. 

According to his website, Richie was coming to New York.

Eddie might be able to easily avoid Richie one to one while he was three thousand miles, and two time zones, away from Eddie, by texting instead of calling, and by making sure they only talked on conference calls with the others present. But he wouldn’t be able to avoid Richie if they were in the same city. Not unless he wanted to give Richie the impression that he wanted to cut him completely from his life. Eddie didn’t need Doctor Milford’s counsel to come to the conclusion that he should talk to Richie and tell him the truth. And Eddie didn’t need a therapy session to conclude, by himself, that this would be a massive risk. 

Eddie oscillated between wanting to talk to Richie, and wanting to hide from him forever. His profession had trained him to look at a situation from all angles, so he weighed up the objective facts: Richie had stayed in the hospital with Eddie for four days, without even leaving to shower (which had been confirmed by Bill); Richie had been severely traumatised when Eddie was injured (again, confirmed by Bill); and Myra, who was usually an impeccable judge of character, had seen something between him and Richie. Less objectively, Eddie himself had felt the same chemistry between them at the reunion dinner at Jade of the Orient, as there had been when they were teenagers.

On the other hand, everything pointed to Richie being straight, not least his aggressively heterosexual public persona. Eddie had watched his Netflix special.

Eddie got changed into his running gear, pulled on his trainers and left the apartment into the early morning. There was no point trying to get back to sleep.

***

Richie flew in on a Friday night.

Eddie had arranged to pick him up at the airport. That afternoon, he felt a migraine coming on, and an uneasy churning in his stomach. He fumbled through his medicine cabinet looking for the nasal spray he needed, knowing that it would stop the migraine, but would make the nausea worse. He inhaled the spray and felt his eyes water. He wiped the tears away with his sleeve and sat down, wondering if he should change his shirt again. Would the grey work better than the blue?

He had resolved to tell Richie the truth. Then he resolved to stay silent forever. On the drive to Newark, Eddie must have changed his mind fifteen times. 

He caught sight of Richie through the crowd. He was hard to miss, being a head taller than most of those around him. 

“Eduardo!” Richie exclaimed, enfolding Eddie into a bone crushing hug. He released him abruptly, saying, “oh Jesus, Eddie. I’m sorry. Are you OK?”

“I’m fine, you idiot.” Eddie said. “I’m fully recovered.”

“And newly single.” Richie said, following Eddie out to the parking lot, waggling his eyebrows suggestively and digging his elbow into Eddie’s ribs. “Have you been taking the ladies of New York by storm?” He said in Southern Gentleman voice.

Eddie had forgotten how annoying Richie could be in person. 

He grabbed Richie’s bag, slung it into the trunk and slammed the driver’s side door, and decided not to say anything.

***

Eddie had come to the conclusion that offering Richie his spare room had been a colossal mistake. It was almost as if Richie was deliberately testing his resolve.

Case in point, on day two, Richie came out of the spare room straight from the shower, wrapped only in a towel, and proceeded to sit at the kitchen table, with a cup of coffee in one hand and his phone in the other, his wet hair curling as it dried. Eddie retreated to his room, flushed, embarrassed and turned on, where he changed into his running gear and left for a lengthy run.

On day three, Eddie spent the day at work, while Richie went to various meetings in the city. When he came home, Richie was cooking dinner, making himself at home in Eddie’s kitchen. Eddie had no idea that Richie could cook - he’d always imagined Richie would be domestically challenged - but not only could he cook, he could cook with Eddie’s specific dietary requirements in mind. Eddie drank too much wine with dinner, and ended up crashing at 9pm, the truth still locked behind his teeth.

On Tuesday, Eddie went out for his run as usual at six thirty, and came back to the apartment about forty minutes later. Richie was already up, making coffee in the kitchen. Eddie opened the fridge and took out a bottle of water, which he drank in one go.

“Jesus Christ, Eddie.” Richie said

Eddie lowered the bottle and looked at him, confused. “What?” He said.

Richie stood up, and put his coffee cup in the sink, turning his back on Eddie. Eddie’s eyes were drawn to the breadth of his shoulders, and the way his t-shirt stretched across them. Richie leaned forward over the sink, shifting his weight onto his arms, and oh god, Eddie couldn’t help himself, his eyes drifted downward to focus on Richie’s denim clad ass.

“Are you trying to test me?” Richie said. 

“What?” Eddie said, shifting his focus to the back of Richie’s head. He really wasn’t following this. Why would Richie be upset about him drinking water from the fridge?

“Those shorts!” Richie exclaimed, turning back to face Eddie. “It’s like you’re trying to torture me!”

Eddie stared at Richie. He was starting to think he knew where this was going, but he didn’t trust his judgement in case he was misreading the situation. “What about the shorts?” He said.

“It’s not just the shorts.” Richie said, his voice sounding strangled. “It’s the whole sweaty, just-worked-out ensemble. It’s like you’re trying to kill me with sexual frustration.”

“Oh, like you’ve not been doing the exact same thing!” Eddie shouted, allowing Richie to provoke him, and not giving himself a second to process what Richie had just said. “With the towel and the sweatpants, and the cooking!”

“The cooking?” Richie said. 

“Oh fuck you.” Eddie said, his pulse racing. 

“Did the sight of me cooking turn you on, Eds?”

“Fuck you, Richie.” Eddie said. “I swear to god, if you say one more word.”

“If I’d known, I would have cooked for you sooner.” Richie said, crossing the kitchen and advancing on Eddie, who was backed up against the fridge. He leaned close to Eddie, putting his weight onto one arm beside Eddie’s head. 

“That’s it.” Eddie said. “This conversation is over. I need a shower.”

Richie didn’t move back. Instead he caged Eddie against the fridge with both arms. “Don’t go.” He said. “If it wasn’t clear, Eddie, I like the way you look right now.”

Eddie had to tip his head back to meet Richie’s eyes. Richie was smirking, which infuriated him, so Eddie reached up, pulled Richie down to his level by the back of his neck, and kissed him. Richie tasted of black coffee, with toothpaste undertones, and Eddie could feel the scrape of Richie’s stubble against his cheek. Eddie licked his way past the seam of Richie’s lips and the kiss turned dirty, and Eddie’s knees weakened. 

Eddie had one hand tangled in the hair at the nape of Richie’s neck feeling the silky curls against his fingers, and the other clutching Richie’s bicep. One of Richie’s hands cupped Eddie’s cheek, and Eddie moaned a little, leaning into the touch and pressing into Richie, as Richie pushed him back against the fridge. 

“I’ve been waiting nearly thirty years for you to do that.” Richie said, breaking the kiss.

“Me too.” Eddie said, pulling Richie back down and kissing him again. He slotted his leg between Richie’s, feeling the bare skin of his knee against the rough denim of Richie’s jeans, as Richie’s hands found their way down to grip Eddie’s ass, his fingers slipping under the fabric of his shorts. “Can we take this to the bedroom, please, Richie? And don’t you dare try to lift me. I’m heavier than I look.”

They stumbled through the apartment to Eddie’s room.

“Are you sure about this?” Eddie said, slamming the door with his foot and working his hands under Richie’s t-shirt as he steered him towards the bed. “I didn’t think you were into men.”

“If it’’s not obvious,” Richie said, grinding his hips into Eddie, before he fell back onto the mattress, “I am into men. Small, angry men in particular.”

“I’m average height.” Eddie said, climbing onto the bed and straddling Richie’s thighs as he leaned down to kiss him.

“If you say so.” Richie said, his hands cupping Eddie’s ass again, and his fingers sliding up under the hem of his shorts. It seemed Richie had a thing for Eddie’s shorts. “I’m bisexual, in case it wasn’t clear.”

Eddie pulled Richie’s t-shirt off, knocking his glasses askew, and tossing the shirt aside. “It’s clear.” He said. “It’s very, very clear.” Eddie unbuttoned Richie’s jeans and tugged as Richie shimmied out of them, falling back onto the bed, and tugging Eddie’s sweatshirt up and off.

“I sort of feel we should, like, talk about this?” Richie said, propped up on one elbow and tracing the fingers of his other hand across Eddie’s collar bones.

“We can talk later.” Eddie said, shivering at Richie’s touch. 

Richie pulled Eddie down into a kiss, and used the momentum to roll them over, so Eddie’s back was flat against the mattress. He looked conflicted as he peeled Eddie out of his shorts, and Eddie was about to make a sarcastic comment about Richie being more attracted to the shorts than the man inside them, until Richie’s gripped Eddie’s cock and stroked it, slowly. Eddie’s head fell back, and he struggled to keep his breathing regular. 

Between his mother and his ex-wife, Eddie had led a sheltered life, and had very limited sexual experience, but Richie clearly did not suffer from the same inexperience. Eddie had never gone from zero to sixty so quickly, and when Richie scooted down and closed his mouth around the tip of Eddie’s cock, Eddie’s legs shook involuntarily, and he gripped Richie’s hair, sure he was going to come far too quickly. 

Richie made eye contact with him, while sliding his mouth up and down, sucking gently and flicking his tongue under the head, and it was the most overwhelming sensation Eddie had ever experienced. 

“Fuck, Richie.” Eddie said, rocking his hips gently and tugging on Richie’s hair. “Oh Jesus, fuck, please Richie.”

“What do you need?” Richie said. 

“Anything.” Eddie said. “Just don’t stop touching me, please.” 

Richie kissed him on the lips, hard and rough, continuing to stroke him, while his other hand rested low on Eddie’s abdomen, holding his hips still. Eddie’s legs started trembling and he felt the tension building in his stomach. “It’s OK, Eddie.” Richie mumbled as Eddie came, his hips jerking forward as his head fell back. “It’s OK.” 

“That was embarrassingly fast.” Eddie said, when he’d caught his breath, watching Richie wipe his hands on a tissue.

“I’m guessing it’s been a while.” Richie said. 

“Shut up.” Eddie said, sitting up and pushing Richie down, hoping that his enthusiasm would make up for his inexperience.

***

Richie, obviously, couldn’t be quiet and enjoy the afterglow. He started fidgeting, until Eddie hooked a leg over his hips and pushed him back into the mattress.

“I wasn’t kidding before.” Richie said, stretching his arms above his head. “When I said I’d wanted to kiss you for nearly thirty years. I spent most of the summer before you left with my dick in my hand, wishing I had the guts to tell you.”

Eddie raised an eyebrow. “Romantic, Richie. Thanks for sharing.”

“Seriously, Eds, your little red shorts back then were the reason for my great bisexual awakening. I thought my dick was going to fall off from overuse.” Richie wrapped an arm around Eddie’s shoulder and hauled him in for a kiss. “When you left, I was heartbroken. I thought for sure that you’d stay in touch, like you promised. And then you didn’t.”

Eddie kissed Richie lightly on the lips, an apology of sorts. Eddie knew he hadn’t deliberately fallen out of touch and had nothing really to be sorry about. He’d forgotten everything. Richie had forgotten, too, later, when he’d left Derry himself.

“Anyway, without killing the mood completely,” Richie said, “I wanted to let you know that this means something to me. Something important.” Richie laid back on the bed, looking straight up at the ceiling, as if he was afraid to make eye contact.

Eddie knew there were obstacles standing in their way. He was freshly divorced, embarrassingly inexperienced and neurotic, and although things had ended amicably with Myra, he was still processing his new, divorced, reality. Richie lived in LA, three thousand miles away, and, to the best of Eddie’s knowledge, had a disastrous romantic track record (but to be fair, most of Eddie’s information was gleaned from Richie’s Netflix special) and still knew how to push the very same buttons he’d been using to get a rise out of Eddie since they were kids. Eddie understood what it must have cost Richie to speak honestly after years of silence. 

He rolled on top of Richie, so he could look him in the eye. “It means something to me, too.” He said, not sure how, or if, the challenges could be conquered, but content in the moment to have faith that, if they both tried, they could overcome any obstacle.


End file.
